


heartbreaker

by GiuliaMed



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: 2x01, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Canon Divergence, Confident Nico, Flirting, M/M, POV Martino, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 16:52:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17429789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiuliaMed/pseuds/GiuliaMed
Summary: The best way to forget about that kiss with Emma is to flirt with a cute boy. Luckily, on October 5th, Niccolò is also at the party.





	heartbreaker

He felt the faint beat of the music pulsating in his bones as soon as he opened the bathroom door. Turning to his left, he walked away from the girl behind him, but only three seconds later she was already standing in his way. There was only one other person in the room, leaning against the kitchen, and Martino considered the quickest ways to get away without appearing too rude. How did he always end up in these situations?

He turned to walk around her, but she quickly caught him at the elbow.

“Are you going to the roof?”

He had to surpress an eyeroll. “Yeah, I have to find my friends.”

“Wait, what’s your name?” She demanded, still clinging to his elbow.

“Martino.”

“I’m Emma.” She slid her hand up his arm and placed it on the back of his neck. “Come dance with me.”

“Listen, Emma, thanks for the kiss but I think you have the wrong idea here.” He didn't even try to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

She leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, slowly, and he wondered how this was the appropriate reaction for what he said.

“Do I?” she giggled. He leaned his head away from her.

“Martino!” a deep voice behind Emma called. It was the guy who’s been silently standing there until now. He sounded like he was greeting an old friend, when in fact, Marti has never met him before. He took a step towards them, then back again. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

Emma was caught off guard, just staring at him, so Marti shook his head.

“Could you give us a moment?” the stranger directed at her, gesturing with a can of beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other.

She looked between them, and when Martino didn’t react, she shrugged.

“Meet me upstairs,” were her last words before turning around and he blankly stared after her.

A few seconds passed and then suddenly the guy broke out in laughter, the smoke pushed out of his mouth swirling around. For a moment he thought about the nerve this guy had to smoke in other people’s kitchen and no open windows, before he remembered that him and his friends smoked weed in the bathroom just a few minutes ago.

“What?” Marti was still a little perplexed, but couldn’t stop himself from grinning at the bizarre situation he just experienced.

“Smooth girl.” He tapped his cigarette against the ashtray. “Very smooth.”

“I don’t even know what just happened,” Marti told him, letting out a sigh of relief now that she was gone.

“Mamma mia, that was embarrassing to watch!” They both laughed.

The boy seemed relaxed, his jean jacket probably a bit too warm in the stuffy room, but with his hair as dark as the night he looked like he belonged there, like it was his thing, smoking alone at other people’s parties. Marti inspected the countless open bottles on the counter, some were knocked over with residual liquid dripping onto the kitchen. There were also some unopened cans, so he walked over and took one, opening it with a familiar sound. The stranger held his own beer towards him and it took him a moment to recognize what he wanted. The cans clinked against each other and Marti tapped the counter with the bottom. “Cheers!” Wondering if he should even drink more at this point, he took a sip.

“So you know Federica?” he asked the boy, after all it was her birthday party.

“Not really,” he explained, an amused smile still on his lips. “I just happened to be around when she started inviting everyone in the school hallway," 

"That’s my school. You also go there? I’ve never seen you.”

“I just transferred.” He shrugged.

“What class are you in?”

“5B”

Marti took another gulp and saw narrowed eyes follow his movement.

“Were you in the kitchen upstairs a few minutes ago?” the boy asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“I saw you kissing that red-haired girl.” He laughed. “And now this girl? Damn, Martino, you’re a heartbreaker.” He winked at him and Marti couldn’t tear his eyes away.

That was indeed a way to look at the situation, and how the hell did things turn out so wrong? That whole mess with Eva got even worse a few minutes ago, but he pushed the thought to the back of his mind, he would deal with her later.

The noise from the hallway increased and Marti’s eyes wandered over the boy’s shoulder to the stairs, where several policemen made their way up. Fuck Fuck Fuck.

Following his gaze, the other boy turned his head. “I think they are ending this party, too bad.”

“Shit.” Marti’s eyes were wide open in panic.

“What?”

“I have weed on me,” he whispered.

“Oh.” He took a moment to process it and gave Martino a once-over, as if to check where it was hidden, then he stubbed out his cigarette.

The policemen were all upstairs on the rooftop and he knew there was only one place he should go now: out.

The guy tilted his head towards the stairs, signalling him to follow. They left the drinks and made their way down, keeping their steps as quiet as possible, Marti closely behind the boy who looked around every corner first. The light wasn’t turned on so they scurried through the darkness, apperently the first ones to leave the party.

When they reached the bottom floor, shadows were dancing near the entrance. He froze, standing in the middle of the entrance hall, and the boy reached for his arm and pulled him to the side, where a dark corridor provided a hiding spot. They leaned against the wall, careful not to catch light or make a sound. Mumbling came from the men and as they made their way up the stairs, Marti didn’t dare to breathe. Seconds of silence passed and no other men came in. A finger poked into his side and he pulled away from the wall to tiptoe towards the door. Suddenly the footsteps were getting louder and voices were coming closer way too quickly, and he turned to the boy to point up.

There could be other people outside, but the men on the stairs were coming back. “What now?” he mouthed.

The boy glanced at the door and back at him, a wide grin spreading accross his face. “Run.”

In a split second he dashed through the door and was out of the building, and with a knee-jerk reaction Marti followed and hurried through the entrance, not looking back to see if there were policemen, running a few meters behind the boy, blindly turning at corners and crossing empty streets, willing his feet to catch up. He ran and ran and ran, feeling the alcohol in his body mixed with the adrenalin pulsing through his veins, his breaths became desperate, lungs burning as he finally reached the boy’s side, now running purely on the hormones he felt his body releasing. When Marti fell back a little, the boy stopped completely, bending over, hands on his knees.

They reached a small alley where they paused, panting, trying to catch their breath.

After a few minutes the boy pushed away from the wall he was leaning on. “That was fun!” he proclaimed and looked at him, exhausted but cheerful, like a child on an adventure.

“Maybe for you, you did nothing wrong.” He laughed. “They could’ve easily caught me.”

“But they didn’t.”

He felt the vibration of his phone before he could hear the ringtone, and he pulled it out of his pocket. With a quick glance at the display he tapped the green button.

“Marti!”

“Hey Gio,” he responded, still out of breath.

“The police is here! Where are you?” He sounded stressed. Marti didn’t fight the warm feeling in his chest at his best friend’s concern.

He watched the boy look around. Who knew where they ended up. “I’m already outside.”

“Ah, nice, good boy,” he let out, relieved.

“Are you guys still there?”

“Yeah, it’s gonna take a couple of minutes.” There were voices and music in the background. “Listen, Elia wants his weed back. Can you meet us?”

He looked around and recognized a shop at the corner. He knew there was a bus station a few minutes down the street, he decribed it to Gio.

“Alright, I know which one. We’ll be there.”

Marti started walking in the direction of the meeting spot they agreed on.

“Okay, ciao.” He ended the call.

The street was mostly dark, streetlights only illuminating the top of their heads and casting shadows on their faces. The boy was walking beside him, as if he had nowhere else to be, and Marti realized that he didn’t know anything about him.

“What’s your name?”

“Niccolò.”

“Niccolò.” He let it roll off his tongue. “I have to write that down.”

“You can’t memorize a name?” There it was again, that tone in his voice and the challenging look, and Marti asked himself what they were doing here.

“I can.” He put on a thoughtful face. “But I have to leave a clue for the police when they find my corpse in some dumpster tomorrow." 

"What are you talking about?” Niccolò eyed him, seemingly confused.

“Well, you isolated me from friends and then took me far away to a dark alley.” He counted on his fingers. “Sounds like standard kidnapping to me.”

“Wouldn’t a killer be smart enough not to say his name?” he asked and furrowed his brows.

He contemplated for a moment. “Maybe you haven’t properly thought this through.”

Niccolò laughed at the response and looked to the ground, raising his shoulders. “Yeah, maybe I haven’t.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, even murderers start small,” Marti teased and patted his shoulder.

“I’m a murderer for saving you from the police?” 

“Don’t play the hero, stranger,” he said playfully, shooting him a warning look and Niccolò just smiled to himself, walking in silence.

The nights were still warm this October and the running made him break out in a sweat, but now it was cold and sticky on his forehead and the breeze caused chills running down his spine. He pulled up the cardigan tied around his hips and put it on. Feeling the exhaustion now, he slowed down a bit, and the boy adjusted his steps.

“Besides, that girl wasn’t your friend.”

Marti didn’t answer, which made Niccolò smile even more. He wished he could peek into his mind, see the thoughts the boy didn’t reveal.

“I’m going to meet up with my friends now.” He wasn’t sure how to continue. One moment they were in the kitchen, talking and in the next they were running from the police. “Sorry I got you into this.” He vaguely gestured at the dark street they walked along. “You probably have somewhere else to be.”

“It’s okay, I’ll walk with you. I mean, what if a real murderer turns up?” He teased. “I could never forgive myself.”

“Now _you’re_ the one bringing it up.”

Niccolò pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He opened it, took one out and put it between his lips, and fumbled for a lighter in the other pocket, while putting the box back. Lighting it up he took one long drag before exhaling slowly, and Marti just stared. He was certain Niccolò was aware.

“So, I save you from the police, I save you from the girl, and I don’t even get a ‘thank you’.” He dragged out the words and squinted his eyes. “I’m afraid I have to put 'ungrateful’ on your list.”

“My list?” Martino raised his eyebrows but the other boy only shrugged.

“You know who keeps lists? Murderers,” Marti concluded with a satisfied expression.

“Can we please stop with that?” Niccolò laughed and handed him the cigarette, and seriously, how could he decline.

“Anyway, you didn’t need to save me, I was already telling her to go away.”

“Well, your struggle didn’t get the message across,” he pointed out. “Poor girl, not very perceptive. Pretty though.”

Another drag off the cigarette filled his lungs with warmth. “Hm.” He tried to make it sound casual, not even knowing why.

“You disagree, really?”

Martino returned the cigarette and damned him for reading him like an open book. The boy thought about it for a moment. “Or not your type?”

Marti almost tripped over his own feet, watching him out of the corner of his eye. “Something like that.”

“Wow.” Niccolò whistled into the empty street. “Kissing people who are not even your type. I think I have to upgrade your status, heartbreaker.” A provocative question sparkled in his eyes. “I’m just not sure which one it is, asshole or just desperate.”

“I think you’re misinterpreting the situation.”

“Oh, am I?” He nudged him with his elbow, daring him, but Marti only nodded in response. He could feel the buzz on his skin, the lightness in his stomach pulling him up.

“Then what is the situation?”

Niccolò was making this ridiculously easy for him, he really was. One answer and it would be out, cards on the table. But doubt was spreading in his chest, the phone, the connection to his friends who were waiting for him, felt heavy as a rock in his pocket, he could feel the tight knot closing around the bubble of joy this evening created. And besides, he couldn’t resist challenging Niccolò’s confidence, so he lifted his chin up.

“Are you friends with them or why do you care?” he teased.

Niccolò tilted his head to the side. “Just making conversation.” He took one last drag from the cigarette and threw it on the ground, not caring where it landed.

Marti felt like he said the wrong thing when the silence stretched out as they continued walking. The bus stop was in sight now and they reached it in a few steps, and with no cars on the roads or people on the streets he felt like they landed in a parallel timeline, one where they were completely alone.

Niccolò stood right in front of him, looking around, then he turned to him.

“Thanks,” Marti said lowly.

“I have to take this bus anyway.” He smiled.

“No, I mean for getting me out of the party.” And for getting me away from Emma. And for running away from the police with me. And for walking me here.

The boy looked him up and down, eyes coming up to set on his face, and he knew Niccolò wanted to say something, but he didn’t.

“Why are you so nice to a stranger?” Marti pushed.

The boy glanced away for a second before returning his gaze. “We ran away from the police together, you’re hardly a stranger.”

He finally returned Niccolò’s warm smile. They could hear the bus before it turned around the corner and stopped where they stood. The door next to the driver opened, but Niccolò stayed directly in front of him, bowing his head to look down and then looked back up through his lashes.

To his left three dark shapes got off the bus, leaving through the last door, looking around and then strolling towards him.

“Rametta!” He heard Elia yell and saw him wave.

“My friends,” he explained and Niccolò nodded.

Then he got in and turned around one last time, and his brilliant smile beamed even in the darkness. “I’ll see you around, Martino Rametta.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Share your thoughts in a comment or talk to me [on tumblr!](https://annefraid.tumblr.com/post/182035952055/heartbreaker-giuliamed-skam-italy-archive)


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